Speaking of Birds

Holy moley, I can barely concentrate on writing this post with all the racket. I don't need to rely on the crocuses to tell me that spring is here--spring is shouting its arrival to the tune of squawks, chirps, whistles, and squeals. The windows were open in my car the other day when we saw a hawk with a most impressive wingspan alight nearby, and I yelled urgently to my kiddos to be alert. That beast looked strong enough to swoop into our car with his claws outstretched and carry any one of my sons off with them (well, maybe not the thirteen-year-old). Fortunately, the light turned green just in time.

This morning I was on my way down my dark street alone to meet some friends for an early run. The bird songs were so loud, they seemed to be shouting some sort of warning, but I couldn't decipher their code. I was on guard for any dangers of the wild kingdom, and I didn't feel safe as I waited on the corner, the light of a streetlamp my only comfort. What good would my cell phone have been? Would my husband take me seriously if he were woken with a call like, "Help! I'm being attacked by a pack of warbling martins!" If the birds sensed danger on my behalf, it was a false alarm. My outing went smoothly aside from a few freak attacks from the side, some fool-hardy chickadees, I'm sure. Meanwhile, I'll keep a wary eye on these first days spring. The weather sure is nice, but sheesh, watch out for those birds.